TRUITY Spiritual Mentoring

by Deborah Beach Giordano
© July 21, 2008

When the time came, Rebekah gave birth to twins. The firstborn was red and his body was covered all over with fur — so they named him Esau (which means "hairy"). His brother came out afterward, his hand gripping Esau’s heel — so he was called Jacob (which means "heel").

Isaac was sixty years old when the children were born.

When the boys grew up, Esau was a skillful hunter who loved the open fields, while Jacob was a quiet man who stayed indoors. Isaac loved Esau, because he liked to eat the meat that he brought back; but Rebekah loved Jacob.

One time, when Jacob was cooking a stew, Esau came in from the field, exhausted. Esau said to Jacob, "Give me some of that red, red stuff to eat, for I am starving!" (This is why he was called Edom — which means "red.")

Jacob said, "First sell me your birthright."

Esau said, "I am about to die from hunger; what good is a birthright to me?"

Jacob said, "First, swear that you will give it to me." So Esau swore to give his status as elder son to Jacob.

Then Jacob gave Esau bread and lentil stew — and he ate and drank, then arose and went on his way. That’s how little Esau cared about his birthright. 
        ~ from the book of Genesis 25:21-34

And so ends an ancient — and very weird — story about a guy who traded his birthright for a bowl of lentil stew. Why on earth would he do such a thing: surrender his inheritance and discredit his good name — in exchange for a cup of soup? Was he really all that hungry? Was he crazy? Did he hold his family in such low esteem?

Of course the real bad guy in the story has to be that Jacob. Imagine refusing to give food to your own brother! How heartless to force him to give up his dignity, his honor in the family — while sitting there with a pot full of stew!

There was certainly something wrong going on between those two. But whatever it was, it certainly has nothing to do with us. Nothing like that could ever happen in our world.

Or could it?

I wonder.

A couple of weeks ago I met with other concerned citizens to discuss the projected California State budget. Yet again our legislators were planning to "balance" the budget by cutting services to those in greatest need: the young, the old, the poor and the infirm.

We gathered together to collect stories to take to Sacramento, to schedule community forums, and develop alternative solutions. It was exciting and inspiring to be involved in the process, and a privilege to be a part of such a great group of folks.

What was most striking to me was how little people were asking for. Most needed only a small amount of help. There was a wonderful young woman there who has no arms or legs — she gets about with an electric wheelchair which she navigates with her mouth. Jan is a delight not because she’s "overcome her disability," but because she is bright, funny, and articulate. She is also a lawyer and the executive director of a local agency that empowers people with disabilities to live on their own. With the help of minimal public assistance programs (such as accessible public transit), people with disabilities can stay in their own homes, go to school, raise families, and hold down jobs. They can be, as the saying goes, "contributing members of society."

That is all anyone at the meeting wanted: that those we work with and advocate for be given the opportunity to make a difference in the world. There were no "militant" demands for "government handouts," we do not expect that their every wish should be fulfilled. But they need some help.

Without it, they may end up in dismal nursing homes, homeless shelters, or on the street. There, they become nobodies: their talents, their ideas, their skills and imagination lost; their birthrights surrendered. All they might have done, the contributions they could have made, is gone forever.

And so we held our very necessary meeting; a strategizing session to keep these hopes and possibilities alive.

The attendees represented a cross-section of America: parents of young children, elder advocates, people with disabilities, preschool teachers, food bank staffers, high school students, seniors, health care workers, teachers, librarians ...

The only ones missing from the mix were the rich and comfortable.

I guess they thought the issue didn’t concern them. After all, no one would ever ask them to choose between their "birthright" and their next meal. Their options are always open: their opportunities limited only by their imagination, their positions secure.

How different from those who live in poverty, who have lost their jobs, their insurance, or their health! Every day that fearful choice looms: will they have to surrender their pride, forego their dreams, cease doing what they love — stop being who they are — in order to feed their children, care for their aging parents or ailing spouse? Will they be able to pay the electricity bill, afford necessary medications, or keep a roof over their heads?

Low-wage workers are always at risk. They rarely receive benefits, and are the first to be laid-off in economic downturns. If they earn a raise or are given more hours at their job, the family may lose the help that makes their existence possible (such as food stamps or health care supplements) — because now they make "too much money."

There is Wealth or Welfare: but there is precious little in-between to prevent people who are on the edge from sliding into abject poverty. The "working poor" want to work: they want to contribute to society, to make a difference in the world, to honor their mothers and fathers and set an example for their children. And yet they often must give up all of these things in order to "qualify" for welfare: they are forced to surrender their birthright in exchange for a meal.

How readily we condemn Jacob for his unwillingness to feed his hungry brother! How confident we are that such a thing "could never happen here."

Jesus replied, "Who are my mother and my brothers?" Looking around at those who were sitting with him, he declared, "Look! These are my mother and my brothers and sisters! For whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother."
~ Mark 3:33-35 (Mt 12.46—50; Lk 8.19—21)

Virtual hugs and real-time blessings,